


Don't Let Go

by Inell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt Stiles, Isaac Returns, M/M, Minor Injuries, Monster of the Week, Pre-Slash, Protective Isaac, Reference to Blood Due to Injury, Running, Scars, Scarves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is injured, and Isaac tries to keep him safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> distant-teenagers Prompted: Could you do Stiles/Issac + 74 "Don't let go." 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

It’s so dark. Too dark. The trees are everywhere, thick branches blocking out the moonlight above, and leaves creating a canopy above their heads as they run. Stiles is trying to keep up, but his vision is blurry, and it’s just _so dark_. The creature is chasing them, though, and he has to keep running even if he can’t see where he’s going. His ribs hurt, aching from where he was slammed against a tree, and his legs hurt, straining muscles from all the running in boots that aren’t meant for running miles. His face is the worst, stinging and painful, but he doesn’t want to--can’t’--think about it right now.

A hand suddenly takes his, three fingers wrapping around his wrist and palm, tugging him along faster. “Don’t let go,” Isaac growls at him, eyes flashing yellow as he looks behind them.

Stiles tightens his grip on Isaac’s hand and keeps running. When he stumbles on a large rock, Isaac catches him before he falls, pulling him to his feet and pushing him in front. “Sorry,” Stiles whispers, not wanting to speak louder in case the creature is close by, not even sure if he _can_ speak louder. His lungs hurt, and he’s starting to reach that point where adrenaline isn’t enough to keep him going.

The worst part is that they’re lost. They weren’t really expecting the latest creature of the week to be in the far northern side of the preserve, not when the kills have been found closer to town, and Stiles knows that’s why Scott sent him to this area to search. Trying to protect him in that annoying yet loving way of his. Isaac is his partner this time because Stiles always seems to get rotated, and it’s just his turn. Stuck with the weak human who talks too much. No one ever has to deal with him twice in a row. They think he hasn’t noticed, but he has, and he tries not to let it bother him.

Though, really, since Isaac came back from France during Christmas break to finish out senior year in Beacon Hills, he’s been stuck with Stiles more often than not. Probably punishing him for leaving or something, not that Scott would ever do that, but Stiles feels that way sometimes. Tonight, he’s glad it’s Isaac because Isaac is almost as strong as Scott, and he’s not going to just leave Stiles behind even if he doesn’t like him all that much. Now, a year ago, it might have been a different story, but France has calmed Isaac down, made him less abrasive, made him more cocky, sure, and the fashion is still eye-rolling, but Stiles doesn’t mind the scarves too much anymore.

Stiles suddenly gasps, a pain in his leg making him crumble. Oh fuck, that hurts. It’s a pulled muscle, he recognizes, probably from running so much without warming up. He lets go of Isaac’s hand so he can try to stand back up, hating feeling like he’s dragging them down and risking their lives. Hell, it might be better if he just stays here. Isaac can definitely escape without Stiles weighing him down.

“I told you not to let go,” Isaac says, crouching down in front of him. It’s too dark to really see anything, but he feels hand on his leg and the pain starts to recede. “I don’t hear that thing anymore, but we need to keep moving.”

“You go,” Stiles says, stumbling to his feet and wincing as his face throbs. “I’m holding you back, Isaac. Just go get help, and I’ll try to follow.”

“Fuck that,” Isaac snarls, picking Stiles up and tossing him over his shoulder before taking off at a fast run. Stiles hits his back, but gives up when it becomes obvious Isaac isn’t going to leave him behind.

“Don’t let go,” he warns, looking at the darkness behind them as Isaac keeps running. 

“I won’t.” Isaac tightens his grip and veers into a different direction. Stiles isn’t sure how far they go, how long they run, or even where they are, but he keeps staring behind them hoping to continue seeing nothing. “I think a building up ahead. We’ll stop there for a minute and see if it’s following us.”

“I haven’t seen anything, but it’s so dark.” Stiles bites his lip. “Do you hear it?”

“No, but we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with, either, so it could be cloaking itself or I don’t know.” Isaac groans. “I’m so tired of running.”

“It has sharp claws,” Stiles whispers, taking a few quick breaths. “And it’s strong enough to throw me into the tree and probably break a couple of ribs like I weigh nothing.”

“You aren’t exactly heavy,” Isaac reminds him. “I’m still moving quickly and covering a good distance despite carrying you, so.”

“Not everyone can be all muscular and hunky,” Stiles mutters, glaring at Isaac’s back and ass. He can’t see them, but he knows the general vicinity of where they should be.

Isaac actually huffs out a laugh before he starts slowing down. “It looks like an old cabin or something,” he says as he comes to a stop. He puts Stiles down and takes his wrist, tugging him along. “Don’t let go. It’s dark, and my vision is better. Follow me.”

“I’m a super powerful werewolf and you’re a weak human,” Stiles interprets for him, but he gets a good grasp on Isaac’s hand and follows.

“Your inferiority complex is concerning,” Isaac tells him. “You might be human, but you’re far from weak. You know, Miss Morrell isn’t actually a bad therapist if you need to talk to someone to get over that.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles says cheerfully, stifling a scream when his foot kicks a stair.

“Oops. Stairs.” Isaac is totally smirking. Stiles glares in his general direction because he doesn’t have to see it to know it’s true.

The cabin is old and smells bad, like it hasn’t been aired out in years. “This place smells like Scott’s socks. Rank and gross,” he decides, making a face as Isaac tugs him around. “You can let go now.”

“Not yet. You can’t see anything,” Isaac reminds him, fingers tightening around Stiles’ hand. “How dangerous do you think it would be if I started a fire?”

“Considering it’s freezing and dark, I’d say it might be worth the risk?” Stiles is definitely becoming aware of the temperature now that they aren’t running anymore. His clothes are sweaty, too, so that makes it colder.

“Stay here. Don’t move.” Isaac lets go of his hand, and Stiles totally moves first thing. He takes a few cautious steps before touching a wall, which he turns his back to then slides down until he’s sitting on the likely disgusting old floor. “And of course you don’t listen. How are your ribs? I heard a hiss of pain.”

“Painful, but manageable.” Stiles rubs his side, trying to focus on that instead of the pain in his face. “How’s your stomach? It looked like that thing to a good slice of you.”

“Already healed,” Isaac admits quietly. Of course. Stiles should have known. There’s some noise beside him then suddenly a lighter flickers to life. Isaac is kneeling in front of a fireplace trying to light the wood. Stiles watches his profile for a few moments, wondering when Isaac got so good-looking, or maybe he always was but the whole douchebag thing made him unattractive. The wood finally catches, and Isaac sits back. The glow of the fire does really good things for his face.

“How bad’s my face?” Stiles asks quietly. Isaac looks at him, and the fact he doesn’t immediately reassure him tells him everything he needs to know. “Fuck. I was hoping maybe it wasn’t as bad as I feared.”

“It’s deep,” Isaac whispers, crawling over to where Stiles is sitting. “If the claw had been even half an inch to the left, it would have taken out your eye. Be glad it didn’t do that.”

“Right. I’m going to have a horrible scar covering the entire left side of my face, but, hey, I might have lost an eye, too. Then I really would have been the Xander of this pack.” Stiles closes his eyes and huffs a laugh. “Well, there goes my dating life. Not that I have one anyway, but it feels like my face has been split open, so I’m not expecting a sexy little scar that makes me look dashing and roguish.”

“No, it’s a pretty major scar,” Isaac admits. “But I highly doubt it’s going to interfere with your romantic life. Scars are sexy, after all, and you earned yours saving me from becoming creature food.”

“Not that I can actually tell any potential partners about that part,” Stiles reminds him. “It’s all good. No one will ever find me attractive enough to want to date me, so I’ll just buy a dozen cats and die a lonely old scarred man. Hell, I can’t even get a date without the scar, so whatever.”

“Okay, Telemundo.” Isaac quirks his lips when Stiles looks at him. “You’re being overly dramatic. Here, let me clean it up. It might look better when it’s not covered in blood.”

“Wolf thinks he’s got jokes. Unfunny jokes, though,” Stiles points out. He watches Isaac take off his pretty pink scarf (salmon is what Isaac insists, but it’s totally pink) and gently brush the end of it across his face. “Soft.”

“Yeah.” Isaac looks at him as he wipes up the blood. “I like how warm and soft they are. That’s why I like wearing them, even if they aren’t weather appropriate, as you so often inform me.”

“They look good on you,” Stiles murmurs, wincing when his ribs remind him they’re broken. He feels so tired, and it’s becoming more difficult to keep his eyes open. “Wanna sleep now.”

“I don’t think you should,” Isaac whispers, touching his jaw. “You got hit hard, and there’s a lot of blood from this wound. You need to stay awake, alright? Just keep talking to me. Once I finish wiping this off, I’ll try calling Scott to tell him to bring his mom and come find us.”

“’m tired, Isaac,” he whines, blinking at him. “Glad it’s you. With me.”

“I’m glad, too.” Isaac strokes his thumb over Stiles’ jaw before he focuses on gently wiping the claw marks with the scarf. “You’re wrong, you know?”

“Nuh uh. Always right.”

“Nope. This time you aren’t.”

“What about?”

“This scar isn’t going to keep you from dating.”

“Ha. We’ll see.”

Isaac pulls back and looks him in the eyes. “I know you’re kind of out of it right now, and that’s why I can say this. You probably won’t even remember it. But I’d date you, Stiles. Scar or not.”

“You don’t even like me.” Stiles sways slightly as he straightens up. “You’d date me?”

“I do like you,” Isaac says. “Even when you’re being an asshole, and when you’re ignoring my order to run so you can distract the creature in order to save me.”

“It’s just caused I saved you,” Stiles decides. “Like Stockholm Syndrome or something. You feel grateful, and that’s all it is.”

“I was interested before you saved me. You just make it difficult to get close to you and I’m bad at flirting,” Isaac tells him. “I’m also a bit of an asshole, too, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be more interested in hate sex or dating, so I hadn’t decided which way to try yet.”

“You’re being pretty brash there, Isaac.” Stiles reaches out to touch Isaac’s mouth. “I’m not going to forget this, but keep talking. I’ll be able to do something about it later, after I’ve slept a week and got these injuries tended to.”

“You’ll most likely forget it, but I’ll just have to tell you when you’re more alert, I guess.” Isaac smiles slightly. “But I’ll keep talking just as soon as I call Scott.”

“Tell him my face hurts,” Stiles murmurs, reaching up to touch the claw marks that run down the edge of his face. “Braeden makes scars look sexy. Maybe I’ll ask her for advice.”

Isaac laughs, shaking his head. “Let me be there when you do, alright?” He suddenly sobers up. “Scott, we found it. We ran for miles, and it got me good. Wouldn’t have made it if Stiles hadn’t distracted it. He’s hurt, though. A couple of broken ribs, and it sliced his face. Can you bring Melissa with you when you come find us? We’re holed up in an abandoned cabin, and I started a fire, but there’s no water or supplies.” He listens and sighs. “Great. We’ll wait here for you.”

“He on his way?” Stiles blinks at him. “Can you like arooo to him or something?”

“Did you just try to howl?” Isaac moves beside him and gently pulls Stiles onto his lap. “You’re getting cold. I can see the goosebumps on your arms. We’re going to sit here, and I’m going to keep you warm until Scott gets here. Then, when you’re feeling better, I’d like to take you on a date, if you’d want to go out with me.”

“Yeah, a date sounds good.” Stiles snuggles against Isaac’s chest as Isaac wraps his arms around him tightly. He’s so careful of Stiles’ ribs that it makes him pat Isaac’s face. “Don’t let go,” he says seriously, swaying slightly as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Isaac brushes his lips against Stiles’ jaw, just a light barely there kiss. “I won’t let go, Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr [here](http://inell.tumblr.com). Feel free to follow me!
> 
> If you enjoy this, please consider leaving a comment/kudos!


End file.
